Not A Replacement
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: Hollis recieves a strange visit one night, and has a miniscule conversation that means a lot more than words can express. .:. oneshot. vaguely implied slash. read A/N for details.


**A/N: It's the oddest thing; after watching the director's cut of Watchmen (which, by the way, I prefer over the theatrical version because it causes the movie to make more sense and contains lots of good scenes that I personally think should've stayed in the film), I went upstairs to mop the floor. My mind was teeming with semi-slashy thoughts, when suddenly, a bizarre inspiration struck. And so here I am, writing quite the unusual oneshot. At least, it seems weird to me, since I don't think it's been done. Enjoy anyway. **

**And please, try to see all of the hidden meanings I'm attempting to convey without ranting them full-out like I normally do. ;)**

**Warning: vaguely implied RorDan slash. Don't like, don't bother to read or flame, 'cause I'm a pyro, so flames don't scare me.**

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"You miss him, don't you?" Hollis Mason spoke kindly. To the untrained eye, it would appear that he was speaking to the thin air past his mug of after-dinner coffee.

Yet he wasn't actually alone, talking to no one. No, he was speaking to the individual just outside his window, someone as silent and looming and small as a shadow.

"How did you know I was here." The voice of the shadow stated with a raspy, rumbling tone.

Hollis chuckled, realizing the figure was asking a question. He set his mug down on his desk, beside a small statue of himself. "You forget that I was once a masked hero as skilled as yourself; I can sense a presence if I concentrate hard enough. I may be old, but I'm not dead to the world yet."

"Humph. Not yet," the other retorted with a grunt. He entered via the open window, and shrugged his gloved hands into his coat pockets. "Would like to know who you meant."

"About what? You missing someone?"

"Hn."

"Oh, well," Hollis nodded absently, "It's obvious, really: you miss Daniel. Why else would you hang around here every so often, waiting to see him? Or, rather, keep an eye out for him. I'm sure you're the type to do that; stalk for the sake of protecting. Am I wrong, Rorschach?"

The gruff vigilante didn't deny it, merely took a meek step forward, back rigid, and leant against a bookshelf. "Wouldn't understand. Means nothing, what you say."

"You're right," Hollis agreed, "It means nothing if you don't own up to it. But I had a partner, and I know what it's like to suddenly be without them. The sense of duty and unexplainable loyalty never truly fade, so you do what you have to retain some of it. Believe me, I _do _understand. Besides, it's inhuman to not miss someone who was close to you," the older man rambled, but he could tell that Rorschach was listening and considering every single word. He picked up his mug and brought it to his wrinkled lips, sipping idly while he thought a second more, wondering if he should say something else or wait for Rorschach to respond.

It didn't take long for the younger man to say something. "No one is close to me."

"Because you prefer it that way, or because you've made it that way?" Hollis challenged, graying brows raising over peering eyes from above the rim of his mug.

"Neither," Rorschach murmured. "Both. Not sure."

"Mm," the first Nite Owl hummed in comprehension. "Or maybe it's because you feel like no one _wants _to get close. That's how Hooded Justice felt, in the day."

"Don't care to hear about the glory days," Rorschach growled.

"And yet that's all us old folk care to talk about," Hollis smiled. "So let me ask you, why are you here?"

"Hurm," Rorschach supplied at length. He leant off of the bookshelf and paced for a moment, nearing the window. "Wasn't trying to replace Daniel, but…"

"…But the company of one Owl can help sooth the absence of another. I get it," the older man said softly. He stood from his chair and made his way over to his framed photograph of the Minutemen. "Sometimes, as people, we try to do that: find the next-best thing to fix what's hurting us, like a band-aid."

"Am _not_ hurting," Rorschach defended sharply. He chose his words with care, so not to send the wrong message.

"I know," Hollis said, because he _did_ know. He knew what it was like to be in denial, to care for his crime-busting partner, to miss them. For years he didn't linger on that feeling, and sought to fill it with his own kind of replacement. Oddly enough, it came in the form of an eager young man interested in taking his place and making him a mentor of sorts. It wasn't anywhere near that partnership he'd been missing, but Hollis found that meeting and befriending Daniel had filled a different gap in him: the father figure he cold never be otherwise due to his life wasted on crime fighting instead of making a family for himself.

It was strange, because Daniel Dreiburg was the sole thing Mason and Rorschach had in common. They were both the nerdy man's friends. Aside from the rest of the Watchmen, they were really the only people Dan knew.

Rorschach suddenly leapt onto the windowsill, readying himself to make his exit. He paused a moment, taking in the withered old hero behind him. "Was right, you know. I do."

"…Do what?" Hollis puzzled as he supported his weight with a hand leaning on his desk.

"Miss him," Rorschach admitted lowly, voice barely above a whisper. And then he fled, entering the mild New York night with a tap of his slightly elevated shoes on the pavement.

Hollis stood there for a few minutes, watching the breeze filter in through his curtains as his ears searched for the sound of retreating footsteps. He couldn't hear any, but he assumed that Dan's partner had long since left the premises.

The old man sighed to himself as he sat back down in his chair. "A real piece of work, that one," he chuckled faintly. "I wonder how Danny-boy ever put up with him." His mouth hardened into a sad line. "But I think I have an idea."

He looked off into the distance, at the chain-link fence around his auto repair shop's property. He could see a short man in a trench coat, barely visible in the dim lighting, stalking off toward an unknown destination.

Hollis shook his head, quickly recapping their entire conversation, as short as it was. Something sparked in his mind. "No, I'm not a replacement… for _either _of them. But sometimes I feel like I'm supposed to be." He looked into his coffee, now gone room-temperature. "Dan should've never retired, Keene Act or not. It left them both a bit empty."


End file.
